


we got no money, but we got heart

by atlantisairlock



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Person of Interest (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Love Confessions, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot can change in a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we got no money, but we got heart

**Author's Note:**

> prompt by shacker anon: A & S have been living on opposite sides of the country, but one of them gets a job so they end up back in the same state again. although they've kept in contact, it's been stilted. one or both of them afraid to start something. 
> 
> title from 'anna sun' by walk the moon.

It's been a year after the clapboard came down for the very last time on the set of Person of Interest, and, well - 

a lot can change in a year. 

 

 

Drew isn't picked up, so you find yourself out of a job pretty quick, and if you thought it was hard raising twins, it's even harder raising them on your own. It's not fun. 

A year after one of the most exciting, exhilarating times of your life, you get on your knees and pray to whoever's up there.  _God, please send me an angel._

The next day, Amy knocks on your door.

 

 

Over a cup of warm tea, she explains the situation to you - she's here in LA for two months or so to shoot a movie and your place is pretty close to set, and it would be so nice to catch up again, the thing is, she needs a place to stay, and she didn't know who else to come to, and - 

"You can stay here," you interrupt in the midst of her apology about being a burden. The thing is, you don't want to be alone any longer, and Amy's always been... Amy. 

Her eyes light up, and she reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. "Thank you." 

 

 

You set up the guest room and try to make the house welcome. It's a tough task, what with the twins' things strewn everywhere, but she doesn't seem to mind. Knox crawls into her suitcase while she's unpacking and makes an unholy mess, and she only laughs, scoops him up and carries him into the living room. She's patient and easygoing and funny - in other words, she's exactly the Amy you remember. 

God, Amy.

 

 

It's not that both of you ever really had anything. That wasn't a luxury either of you could afford. 

But those kisses you shared in the line of duty - 

you like to think they meant... something. 

 

 

Amy's in and out of the house at odd hours and once, three days go by without you seeing hide or hair of her - but somehow, nevertheless, she manages to integrate herself anyway. Violet learns to recognise her and gurgles happily in her direction on the nights she comes home in time for dinner. However exhausted she is, Amy never fails to squat down by her side and ruffle her hair and ask her what she's doing. You catch sight of her playing peekaboo with Knox once, when you're cooking dinner for all four of you, and she spends her one rare off-day helping out with chores and shopping for groceries at Whole Foods. She insists she's just trying to be a good houseguest, and refuses to listen to your protests. 

You never really had anything, then. 

But it begins to dawn on you that you could,  _now._

It's been a year.

A lot can change in a year - 

except that one crucial matter of you being way too scared to pursue it. After all, you argue to yourself, aren't you happy as you are? Isn't this good, what you have right now? Why risk anything? Why change anything? 

You resigned yourself to never getting what you wanted a long, long time ago. 

This is no different. 

 

 

Amy calls you up in the middle of a chaotic day. Violet and Knox are both sick, Knox violently so - he's thrown up twice since breakfast - and Violet's running a temperature that's honestly terrifying, and you manage to burn lunch while trying to keep them hydrated and cool. You're in total panic mode when you pick up the phone and all but yell into it. "What?!"

"Sarah?" Amy's voice comes over the speaker, concerned. "You okay?"

You quite nearly burst into tears, and just manage to hold yourself together so you can pick a screaming Violet up and tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder. "The twins are sick, the car's in the shop and lunch is burning as we speak. No, Amy, I'm not okay."

There's silence on the other end, then Amy murmurs soothingly. "Give me ten minutes. Turn off the stove, get the kids changed if you can - I'll swing over with my car and drive us to the hospital. Just hold on, Sarah. It's going to be alright." 

True to her word, Amy pulls into the driveway ten minutes later, all business. She's got two car seats in the back - where did she even get those? - and she straps the twins in with effortless grace, waits for you to lock the front door, and drives off to the nearest hospital. After that, it's just a matter of the ER and medical professionals and forms you have to fill in. Your hands are shaking, tears blurring your vision, and without a word Amy takes the pen from you and starts scribbling down the details. 

It takes an hour, but finally the doctors inform you that there's nothing to worry about, it's just the flu, and the kids are probably reacting badly because their immune systems have never encountered the bug before. Meds are prescribed to keep Violet's fever down and keep food in Knox's stomach, and that's about it. 

"Don't you and your wife worry too much," the kindly-looking nurse says as she lifts the far more sedate twins into your arms. "Kids will be kids - better they get the worst of it over now, so they won't be so miserably ill when they're older."

Your face grows hot. "We're - no, I mean, we're not - she's not..." 

But Amy's already coming to your side, breathing a sigh of relief, smiling uncontrollably as she sees the kids safe. You close your mouth. 

You're not...

are you?

 

 

The doctors are right - within two days the twins are hale and healthy again, toddling around and causing havoc in their innocent little way. They wake up ridiculously early, and Amy entertains them over breakfast before rushing off to set. 

You get used to it, 

which is a mistake. Because it means that you forget. You forget that Amy has a home and a career and an entire life back in New York, and this arrangement was always meant to be temporary. It actually shocks you for a second when you come home one afternoon from a day out at the park with the twins and you find her packing some of her clothes. 

"Amy?" You can't even manage anything above a whisper. "What are you doing?"

She blinks up at you. "I'm... packing? Tomorrow's my last day of filming, and I fly off the day after." 

Oh.

Right.

Yeah.

You can't do anything for a solid minute except stand in the doorway of the guest room staring at her. She stares back. 

 _Don't go,_ you think, followed by  _oh no._

She looks at you like she's expecting you to say something, but you can't.

For all of that, you're still just too damn afraid.

 

 

Dinner is a quiet affair. Amy busies herself with playing with the twins and you push your food around your plate. The kids are bubbly and giggly, but later on when you're idly watching TV, Violet tugs on your sleeve and looks up at you with a curious, questioning expression. "Mama sad?"

The tears spring into your eyes, unbidden, and you swallow hard, hugging your daughter close. "No, sweetheart. Nothing's wrong."

She falls asleep in your lap, and you carry her to bed, kissing her forehead lightly. Amy's tucking Knox in at the other end of the room and singing a lullaby, low and sweet. 

How has it only been two months?

How has it  _already_ been two months?

You're not sure you want to know.

 

 

You can't sleep. You toss and turn in your bed that feels far too big for one and try to kid yourself into thinking that so long as you don't close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness, it will never be tomorrow. 

You can't even beg her to stay - that would be too selfish, and you're not that brave, anyway. 

You can't sleep.

And evidently she can't, either, because you hear a light knock on your door. It can only be one person. "Come in," you call, and Amy steals in, shuts the door behind her, and lays down beside you with no invitation. She knows, all too well, that she doesn't need one. 

Nothing happens for five minutes - she simply lies there, and you can hear her steady breathing. It's comforting. It lulls you into drowsiness, and you almost drop off when she moves, just the slightest, and tangles her fingers in yours. There's no hesitation - she just holds your hand, doesn't pull away. You hear your breath hitch. She doesn't acknowledge it, doesn't say anything.

It finally falls to you to do - something. 

"Amy, this is a bad idea."

"I know."

"We live on opposite ends of the country."

"I know."

"And long distance is hard."

"I know."

"You have your career and everything."

"I know."

"I have kids. It's not going to be easy integrating or anything."

This, she laughs at. As if she hasn't already, and you know that. Nevertheless, she nods - she understands where you're coming from. "I know." 

A beat, followed by another, and it stretches out into silence. There's something about the AM hours that give you a reckless kind of courage, and you throw it all to the wind. "I love you." 

In the tiniest sliver of moonlight illuminating her face, you see her smile. She squeezes your hand.

"I know." 

 

 

You take Amy out for dinner the night before she leaves at some shitty pizza place in LAX. Violet cries when Amy's entering the departure hall, which is a blessing in disguise because it means you're too busy trying to calm her down to cry yourself. 

Amy hugs you tight and whispers in your ear. "This isn't goodbye, I promise." 

You're not even going to pretend you know what that means.

 

 

When you wake up again, the house is so fucking empty it hurts. 

You didn't even kiss her before she left. 

The twins are cranky the entire day, and you can't even blame them. Knox throws a massive tantrum and breaks three plastic plates by throwing them at the wall. You hug him close as he struggles and yells, and you let yourself cry. "I know, kiddo," you sigh. "I miss her too." 

 

 

But life moves on, as always. Kids are adaptable. A week later they're themselves again, and you're left behind as the only one to grieve and be angry. 

God, it sucks. 

 

 

Perhaps it's a delayed reaction, but two weeks after she leaves you end up crying in the shower. It's way out of fucking nowhere, no lead-up, nothing. One second you're perfectly fine and the next you're on the floor with the water pounding against the tiles and you're straight-out sobbing. It takes you ten minutes before you're even coherent again, and you flail out for a prayer, for anything.

_God, please, if you're listening again - send me an angel._

There's a knock at the door. 

 

 

You're really not sure what you would've done if it hadn't been Amy - 

\- but it is.

She's grinning at you with this light in her eyes and tousled hair and there are a couple cardboard cartons on your porch. "Missed me?"

"What..." 

Her smile gets even wider when she sees you speechless. She digs in her pocket and pulls out two things - an ad clipped from the newspaper and a plane ticket. Your heart races as you look closer at them. The ad lists a house for sale. The plane ticket is one-way from New York. 

"So..." Amy says, affecting an air of easiness as she leans against the doorframe. "The thing is, I'm here in LA for god-knows-how-long because I'm in love with this incredibly beautiful, smart, dedicated woman, and I'm trying to win her over, and I need a place to stay, and I didn't know who else to come to - "

You grab her lapel and pull her past the doorway and into your arms. "Will you just shut up?" 

She laughs, muffled by the hug. "I take it I can stay?"

"Yeah, Amy," you reply, resting your head against her chest and listening to the thud of her heartbeat. "You can stay."

And she stays. 

And more importantly - 

she never leaves. 

 

 

A lot can change in a year. 

You never need to pray for an angel again. 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: 
> 
> i don't own person of interest or cbs or warner, etc - if i did root sure as hell wouldn't have died, and even if she had it wouldn't have been such SHITTY WRITING. i don't know any of the cast personally. i don't profit from this fic; it's just for fun. this fic isn't meant to be in character or to represent anything happening in real life or whatever. no insinuations or disrespect meant towards any of the cast or their families or their respective spouses et al. probably really incorrect wrt all the technical bits bc i haven't had much prior experience in the film industry. aka everything i've written in this fic is FICTIONAL. for ENJOYMENT.
> 
> please for the love of god DON'T come to the comments section going off about how rpf is Disrespectful and Gross and Wrong and Weird - which seems to be a trend on shacker fics - unless you intend to comment the exact same thing on every single phan and one direction and hockey fic that exists on this site as well. it's just annoying.


End file.
